


momentum

by mossy_gremlin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Almost Kiss, Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), M/M, Modern Era, Post-Canon, Pre-slash but not really, Rain, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mossy_gremlin/pseuds/mossy_gremlin
Summary: Their faces were so close it would take so little to close the distance between them, barely a nudge. Their breaths fogged and mixed in the cold, practically sharing breath, and for a moment, time stood still.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 73





	momentum

**Author's Note:**

> Set in post-canon when Arthur has returned from Avalon :)

"Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Go!”

The rain felt like ice upon Arthur’s skin as they ran wildly through the downpour, dashing out of the overhang and making a beeline for Merlin’s apartment. Arthur could barely see the grey buildings that made up the misty London skyline through the torrents of freezing water dripping into his eyes, no matter how fast he blinked. Even through the heavy cracks of thunder raising goosebumps on his skin, he could hear Merlin laughing as he grabbed his hand and pulled him through the street.

Arthur’s heart was hammering in his chest, and between the crackle of electricity thinning the air and the numb splatter of raindrops across his upturned face, he thought he saw Merlin’s eyes flash through the storm as they ran, breathless and light. The urgent heat of Merlin’s hand in his felt like fire, a warmth that burned mercilessly through skin and years of lost time, a feeling of homecoming. He remembered long nights spent poring over speeches and reports, his entire body weighed down by exhaustion, feeling tired and fed-up but never alone.

His foot caught on a stone and he tripped, crashing to the ground and landing on his side, trousers soaked up to the thigh in grimy rainwater. Merlin went down with him, their hands still clasped tighter than welded iron, and his sudden heat pressed down through on his rain-wet clothes like fire.

Merlin’s face somehow seemed so much younger like this, dripping with the bright, fresh rain, just momentarily cleansed of that new, quiet sadness he wore these days, the kind Arthur could never quite smooth away with jabs and distractions.

Their faces were so close it would take so little to close the distance between them, barely a nudge. Their breaths fogged and mixed in the cold, practically sharing breath, and for a moment, time stood still.

Arthur wondered if Merlin would finally do it, give voice to the thing they had never given voice to, the thing that followed them wherever they went, that flared up in every moment they were together and constricted like a hollow space every moment they were apart. In the moments they were alone and the moments they weren’t. When they had slept in those wooden inn rooms together, so many years ago now, and Arthur had felt his every breath echo through the stillness louder than a heartbeat he almost thought he wanted to hear.

He almost thought he would; Merlin didn’t move away for another moment, and when he did, that same, quiet mask of tightly held sadness fell over his face once more.

“You’re wet,” he said, although there was no need to. He said it like he wanted to fill the space between them up with words, until there was a wall of sounds and vowels to hide him away.

Arthur stood up, feeling the water stick his clothes to his legs and chest like frozen slabs. He looked up to the sky and squinted. His mouth was dry. “Can’t you make the rain disappear?”

He thought he saw Merlin frown before he turned around and walk towards the direction of their flat. “Sure.” He paused, searchingly, and continued in a brighter tone. “But this is more fun. What do think I am, a hedge witch?”

“… _Aren’t_ you?” The rain suddenly started to fall harder on his head. It surprised him how easily his laughter came as he ran to catch up with Merlin, who was already walking briskly ahead.

He wondered what had made Merlin take his hand before. He could still feel the warmth, burned into his skin; he wondered what would happen if he were to take it now. He didn’t know when they would finally bridge this gap between them, worn wide open by so many years and lies and things unsaid, but he was willing to wait. 

The rain fell around them as they walked home.


End file.
